Cat Scratch Fever
by Masked Obsession
Summary: When he's suddenly cursed with bad luck, Peter Parker learns the hard way what it means when the Black Cat crosses your path.
1. Graduation Day

"And now, I'd like to hand over the mic to Class of 2024's salutatorian, Peter Parker," MJ concluded her speech, stepping away from the podium as Peter took the stage.

"Woo! Peter!" May cheered from the audience, trying to keep the phone steady in her hand.

As he stood in front of the podium taking in the crowd, a slow smile started to spread across his features before breaking out into a wide, toothy grin.

"Thank you, MJ. For that amazing speech." He glanced over his shoulder at his girlfriend, who flashed him her signature tight-lipped smile.

"I'm honestly not sure how I'm going to top that," he admitted, earning a chuckle from the audience. "First off, I'd like to thank our friends and families for taking the time out of their busy schedules to be here. It is only through your support that we can be standing here today."

He quickly looked down at the typed speech in his shaking hand. "In a few moments, we will cross this stage and receive a diploma we have worked a tough four years for. At that moment as we hold this piece of paper in our hands, we will feel a rush of emotions. Excitement. Pride. Anticipation. Anxiety."

"I say anxiety because for a lot of us we have no idea what is coming next. Several of us already have scholarships and acceptance letters to many prestigious universities." Peter's eyes scanned the rows of graduates beneath him. "Yet, there is still that uncertainty gnawing at the back of our minds. Will I make it in college? Am I choosing the right school? The right major? Maybe you're even asking yourself, is college even for me?"

"The truth is, we won't know those answers until the time comes. We can't control the future, but what we can control is our selves. As I researched different commencement speeches, I found that a lot of them talked about the same thing: working hard. All of us know we need to work hard. That's why we got into this school in the first place."

"But what I think a lot of those speeches tend to forget is that life is not all about how hard you work for something. It's about how you treat others along the way. It's about how you react in the face of failure, especially when you gave it your all. It's about how you deal with the inevitable taste of disappointment, and whether you can stomach it or not. Most of all, it's about how you grow as a person and learn from all the mistakes you've made. Because I promise you, you will make plenty of mistakes."

Peter paused to clear his throat. "Character is something that is undervalued in our society. But it is something our society desperately needs. Especially in positions of power, which many of us want to be in. So I want to tell you something my Uncle Ben once told me. With great power comes great responsibility. Remember this when you finally become president, CEO, et cetera. Because it is so easy to forget to be kind and humble when you're at the top and think everyone else is beneath you."

"I guess this is the part where I start thanking people." He couldn't help but give a sheepish grin. "Ned, thank you for always having my back. Since middle school, you have never once let me down. And I can't think of anyone else I would rather call my best friend."

"MJ." He turned back to the girl behind him, trying to control his beaming smile. "Thank you for always keeping me on my toes. Whether that be with your humor or competitive spirit, you never once missed a chance to put me in my place."

"Aunt May." His eyes shifted to the side where the families were sitting, softening once he spotted her. "I want to thank you most of all. You and Uncle Ben took me in and raised me as your own son."

Trying to keep his voice from getting choked up, Peter took a moment to collect himself. "I-I don't know where I'd be if it wasn't for you. I love you so much. Thank you. For everything."

"And thank you, Class of 2024!" Peter waved his arms in the air, rousing the entire crowd to their feet. The cheers and shouts continued to ring out as he walked back to his seat, echoing throughout the vast stadium.

As he listened to the roaring applause and gazed upon the smiling faces of his classmates, Peter's heart beat with excitement for the next chapter in his life.

* * *

A/N: We're just going to pretend that the end credits scene in Far From Home didn't happen for this story.


	2. Back to Basics

Peter's eyes flashed open in alarm as he sat up in bed. Glancing to the clock beside him only increased his panic, seeing the time was already 8:00.

"Oh shit!" He ripped the covers off of him before jumping out of bed. Hoping they weren't too dirty, Peter grabbed the nearest thing to him from off the carpet. After slipping the slightly wrinkled jeans on, he went to his closet and pulled the first shirt he saw off the hanger.

Too preoccupied with lacing up his sneakers, Peter failed to hear May's approaching footsteps across the wooden floors.

"Peter?" May entered the room, startling the boy. "What's the rush?"

"Why didn't you wake me up?" He rose off the ground, scrambling for his backpack. "I'm like thirty minutes late for school!"

May let out a small chuckle. "Peter, class doesn't start until ten, remember?"

He came to an abrupt stop, spinning around to see his aunt grinning at him. "W-What?" He squeaked.

"When you registered, you told me that you weren't going through the hell that was morning classes." May brought the coffee mug she was holding to her lips.

Peter blinked. "R-Right."

May threw back her head and laughed. "I'm going to head into work now. Have a good day, sweetie."

"You too, May." He waved at her but she had already left the room. He heard the door slam shut as he sat on the bed, heaving a sigh as he lied down on his back.

* * *

Since there was no point in going back to bed, Peter decided to just head down to the university. He figured he could try and find his class in the meantime since he knew how big of a campus NYU was.

It would be just his luck to get lost on the first day of college.

Besides, who knew how long the subway ride would take? Even worse than being lost would be being late.

So while he stood in the crowded car of the brightly-lit subway, Peter looked over his schedule several times.

"HIST-UA 9: U.S. to 1865," he repeated to himself, trying to memorize the class. "Location is the Global Center for Academic and Spiritual Life."

Had he stopped by this building on his orientation tour? He couldn't remember. The tour had been a blur of information with so many stops at so many different buildings.

As the subway screeched to a stop, Peter stuck his phone in his front pocket. Gripping his backpack straps tightly, he stepped onto the platform and rushed out of the station.

"Sorry! Excuse me!" He hurried past the mobs of people, accidentally pressing into them on the way.

Stepping out into the open daylight and out of the crowded station, Peter took a deep breath of the fresh September air. A smile crossed his face as all his previous anxiety dissipated and anticipation replaced it.

He was going to have a good day. He would make sure of it.

Walking along the pavement and seeing the groups of students passing him only made his smile grow. He was sure his heart about to leap out of his chest from how hard it was beating. Butterflies were not just flying around in his stomach, but soaring and maybe even doing flips in the air.

But when his eyes came upon the enormous buildings surrounded by swarms of students, his smile instantly faded. Peter gulped at the sight, standing still across the lawn as students continued to push past him.

He wasn't in high school anymore.

Peter shuffled forward a few steps to the person that had just passed him. "Um, excuse me."

But they just continued walking, completely ignoring him.

"Uh, pardon me-" He reached out to the next person.

"Yeah?" She turned around, gazing at him with a complete look of boredom.

"Do you know where the-"

"No." She turned back around, walking away from him.

"I didn't even say where." Peter frowned, slumping his shoulders. Yet, he was not discouraged from attempting this once again.

"I'm sorry to bother you but do where the Global Center for Academic and Spiritual Life is?" He jogged up to another woman who was carrying a large, black designer handbag.

The woman paused, turning around so quickly her platinum blonde ponytail almost whipped Peter across the face.

"Oh, you're not bothering me at all." She smiled at him. "I'm actually heading to that building right now if you want to follow me."

"O-Okay," he tried smiling back at her. "Yeah, sure. That- That sounds good. Thanks!"

"Yeah, it's just right this way." She gestured with her perfectly manicured nail.

Following behind her, Peter nearly smacked his face in frustration. She had just offered to help him, but his awkward self reacted like she had just offered a million dollars.

No wonder she was being so quiet right now. She must be thinking about how stupid he was.

"What's your name?" She suddenly spoke, glancing over her shoulder.

"Oh, um. Peter. Peter Parker," he answered, trying to keep up with her rapid pace.

"It's nice to meet you, Peter. I'm Felicia." Her dazzling smile returned. "You're a freshman, right?"

Great, he had just outed himself as a freshman. Of course, he would.

"Was it that obvious?" He asked, cringing.

Felicia laughed. "Yeah, to be honest. And not just because you asked where the GCASL was."

Peter scratched the back of his neck. "Then what?"

"You like you just graduated kindergarten." She looked at him from under her black sunglasses.

Peter felt his face instantly flush. He only hoped her sunglasses were dark enough to cover the redness that burned his cheeks. "I-I actually just graduated from high school."

Felicia pushed her sunglasses back up; her grin still plastered on her face. "Close enough."

"Here, let me get that." Peter rushed in front of her to the building, holding the door open for her.

"Why, thank you," she beamed. "You're quite the gentleman, Mr. Parker. You don't see many of those around here."

"It's no problem." He closed the door behind him. "And thank you for taking the time to show me the way."

Felicia took her sunglasses off her face, revealing the green eyes beneath them. "Of course. I wish you luck with your first day." She started to stroll away, heading in the direction that led towards the bathrooms.

"Thanks." Peter waved at her before whipping out his phone from his pocket. After checking the classroom for what must have been the hundredth time, he made his way upstairs.

Today was going well surprisingly. By his standards, it could have been a lot worse.

But as usual, he spoke too soon. Because once he arrived in the classroom, he found it was not just a regular classroom.

No, this was an auditorium.

"Excuse me." Someone pushed past him through the doorway he was blocking.

"S-Sorry." Peter immediately moved out of the way, taking the nearest empty seat. Placing his backpack to the side of him, the boy watched as the auditorium gradually started to fill up.

Sitting here and seeing all these strange and unfamiliar faces made him realize something. Something he had been trying to distract himself from since the day began.

He didn't have any friends here. He was all alone now.

Ned was attending Fordham University and MJ only attended NYU Tuesdays and Thursdays.

A dull ache struck his heart as he was painfully reminded of his days in high school; of his friends. How naive he was, expecting everything to remain the same after high school. Of course, things would change. They always did.

He shifted uncomfortably in his seat, continuing to watch the people around him. If he thought he was invisible in high school, then he was practically nonexistent here.

"Is this seat taken?" A voice asked to the side of him.

Peter looked up, recognizing the black handbag before he did the owner's face.

"No!" He exclaimed a little too excitedly, moving his backpack closer to him. "Go-Go ahead, Felicia."

Felicia moved behind him, sitting in the swivel chair beside the boy. After placing her bag on the long table, she turned to him with a friendly smile. "See anyone you know?"

Peter shook his head. "Just you, to be honest."

"Well, that explains why you were so eager to me," she chuckled as she pulled out a sleek black laptop from her bag. "Not many students are."

"Students?" He furrowed his eyebrows. "Do you mean-"

"I'm the TA," she finished the sentence for him.

"Oh, I thought you were taking the class," Peter laughed awkwardly to himself.

"Oh no. Those days are long gone." Felicia shook her head. "It's all about graduate classes now."

"What are you majoring in?" He asked, spinning in his chair to face her more.

"History. But for my Bachelor's I double majored in History and Liberal Studies," she answered, opening up her laptop and turning it on. The screen flickered instantly, displaying a cat lying on a railing as the screensaver.

"Wow, that's really impressive." Peter couldn't help but stare at her in awe.

"And what about you?" Felicia gazed at him with curious green eyes.

"I-" Peter started to say right as the professor walked in.

"Good morning, class," he announced as he walked towards the front. "I have some things I need to pass out to you all."

Felicia and Peter both exchanged an exasperated glance as the professor started to hand out several papers to the first row.

"You can tell me later," she assured with a smile.

* * *

"Hi, sweetie," May greeted as Peter walked through the door. "So? How was it?"

"It was... better than I thought it would be," he admitted, running a hand through his brown curls.

"Did you meet any new friends?" May grinned, gripping her hands together tightly.

"No, I mean- I met this one girl. But I wouldn't say she's exactly my friend." He scratched at the back of his neck. "She was just really nice. She helped me find my way to class."

"That is really nice." May nodded her head, placing her hand on her hip. "And how are your classes? Do you like them?"

"Yeah, I like them. English has never really been my thing, but it seems pretty interesting. Same with history, which is where I have that girl for. She's the TA." Peter's hand moved to his front pocket, taking out the vibrating phone.

"Looks like Ned's calling. Sorry, Aunt May but I have to take this." He excused himself, walking into his bedroom and closing the door. He swiped his finger across the screen, answering Ned's video call.

"Hey, Peter! What's up?!" Ned was practically screaming into the phone.

"Hey, Ned." Peter stretched his arm away from him, trying to capture the perfect angle. "How was your first day?"

On the other hand, Ned didn't seem to care so much about what he looked like. His face was so close to the lens that Peter could only part of his eye, nose, and mouth. "It was so lit! I met so many people and I even joined a fraternity!"

"Really?" Peter's smile faltered a little bit. "I never took you a for a frat boy."

"Me either! But everyone's so nice and friendly here unlike in high school. It's not about popularity anymore or cliques!"

"That's great to hear, Ned. I'm glad you had a great day." His smile returned to his lips as he looked into his friend's partially excited face.

"What about you? How was your day?"

"It was alright. Nothing like yours," Peter chuckled, sitting in the chair at his desk. "Nothing much happened. Just met this one girl-"

"Is she hot?" Ned interrupted.

"Um," He bit his lip, averting his eyes to the side. "Yeah, I guess. But that doesn't matter because I'm still dating MJ."

"Oh, right." Ned laughed. "Have you heard from her?"

As if on cue, another video call from MJ came in.

"Oh, look. MJ's calling." He pointed to the screen, widening his eyes in surprise. "Should I connect us to a threeway call?"

"Nah, it's good. I'm sure she just wants to talk to you." Ned winked. "I'll talk to you later, Peter!"

"Have a good night!" Peter said right before he answered MJ's call.

"So how was it?" She spoke in her usual dry tone.

"Wow, no hello or how are you?" Peter teased, spinning around on the chair.

"Hello. How are you? So how was it?"

"It was okay." He shrugged. "I missed having you and Ned around. It wasn't the same without you guys."

"It's not supposed to be," MJ deadpanned. "The days of high school are over."

"Yeah," Peter sighed. "But enough about that. Will I get to see you tomorrow?"

"I think so." MJ glanced down at the paper in her lap. "When do you have class again?"

Peter looked up at the ceiling, trying to recall his schedule. "From ten to eleven-thirty. And then one-twenty to two-fifty."

"I can meet you for lunch then," she replied.

"Sounds good!" He grinned, giving her a thumbs up.

"I have homework to do, so I'll see you tomorrow."

"Already?!" Peter exclaimed.

MJ shrugged. "This is college, Peter. Things are going to be different whether we like it or not."

"Right... Okay, well I'll see you tomorrow." He gave her a small smile.

"See you." She hung up and Peter was left staring at his reflection through the dark, blank screen. There was a deep frown etched into his face and his eyes conveyed nothing but disappointment.

Unable to look at it any further, he put his phone down on the desk. Rising from his chair, Peter decided there was only one thing that could cheer him up at this point.

Grabbing his suit from the drawer, he quickly put it on and pressed the button that made it cling to his skin.

With one last glance at his bedroom, Peter took a deep breath before climbing out of his window and out towards the evening skyline that awaited him.


	3. Look What The Cat Dragged In

As the crisp autumn air breezed through the stitching in his mask, the frown etched across Peter's face was already beginning to vanish. Seeing the city come alive around him in glowing shades of blue and yellow was enough to forget the initial disappointment brought on by the day.

Swinging between the endless rows of skyscrapers, Peter navigated through them with ease. At one point he even dared to flip mid-air, much to the applause of the crowd below.

"Yeah! Go Spider-Man!" One guy cheered, giving the web-slinger a fist pump.

Peter chuckled from under his mask, unable to keep himself from grinning. Maybe today wasn't so bad.

A feeling he was all too familiar with suddenly came over him. The prickling sensation tickled the back of his neck, and the hairs on his arms stood up. He turned his head to the side, seeing he was coming upon the massive museum that was the Met. As he swung closer to the park's edge, that tingling only grew stronger.

There was no mistaking it then. Something was going down in there.

With a giant leap, Peter broke from his webbing and landed right on the colossal steps that went up to the museum. After straightening up from his bent knees, he started climbing, awing at the sight in front of him. The Met was already an impressive building during the day, but at night when it was against the backdrop of a twilight sky, was something else entirely. Beams of pale golden light shone between the massive pallid pillars, illuminating the front. At the bottom of the steps, spouts of water danced in hues of neon blue.

Upon reaching the front doors, Peter noticed the museum was already closed despite the early hour. "Oh, right. It's Monday," he muttered, remembering how the Met closed early on weekdays.

He pressed his face against the glass, trying to peer inside the dark lobby. The door shifted forward instantly, making him startle back.

_It was unlocked. _

The prickling was at its strongest, almost to the point of stinging his skin. Pushing the door open, Peter stepped into the thick darkness and listened for the slightest hint of what might be going on. From deep within the museum, the sound of something heavy falling to the floor echoed through the dark, empty hallways.

Tiptoeing across the tile, Peter went further into the museum. Careful not to alert whoever was there, the web-slinger maneuvered through the various exhibits, using what little light the windows above provided.

As he rounded a corner, his eyes briefly fell upon the immense painting of a man and what looked to be an animal with a woman's head and feathered wings clinging onto him.

_Weird._

He passed it, continuing into the exhibit filled with paintings and sculptures. Peter had not gotten far before he heard the sound of something hoisted off the ground and into the air. From up ahead, a black figure moved, creeping towards him with eyes that seemed to gleam in the dark.

"Stop!" Peter jumped out from behind a display.

The figure froze underneath the skylight. In its hand, or rather her claw was a ceramic cat. In the other, was a hefty nylon bag filled with what Peter could only assume was stolen artifacts.

"Drop it," he ordered, beginning to approach her.

Her green eyes glanced between him and the bag in her hand. "I think there's been a mistake," she said. "You see, I'm the janitor."

Peter's outstretched hand wavered. "Wait, what?"

A toothy grin crossed her face as she nodded her head. "Yeah, I'm here to clean this place out."

Before Peter could fully process her words, she rushed past him, knocking him down with the bag. He groaned, pulling himself up on the edge of a nearby case. Whatever was in there must have been made out of metal.

Flicking his wrist, he shot out a web just the woman was rounding the corner towards the exit. It caught on the back of her bag. With a hard tug, Peter yanked the bag out of her hand and pulled it back towards him.

"And what do we have here?" He kicked it open. Inside were glimmering jewels, antique watches, and priceless chalices.

"Oh, you know, just a little income on the side. Nothing that would really interest you." Her long, white hair fell to the side as she cocked her head.

Peter looked up at her, pointing his fingers into the shape of a gun. "Now, that's where you're wrong."

"I thought Spider-Man had bigger things to worry about now than a simple cat burglar. Has the day really been that slow?" Her eyebrows raised dramatically over her black mask.

The whites of his eye sockets narrowed. "The day was, but I think the night's just getting started-Whoa!"

He dodged to the side just in time to avoid the ceramic cat flung at him. It smashed into the wall behind him, shattering into pieces. Peter glanced back, seeing that the woman was already running out of the exhibit.

_With the bag._

"What the-!" His eyes widened as he looked down at his feet. "Hey! Come back here!"

Peter immediately began to chase after her from across the ceiling. She might have been fast, but he was faster. As they entered into a new exhibit, he dropped from the ceiling and right in her path, surprising her.

"What?" He noticed her disbelief. "You thought cats were the only ones to land on their feet?"

"No, but we're the only ones to do it with style." She lunged at him, kicking him in the face with her heel. He staggered back, managing to keep himself upright. Just as she was about to kick him again, Peter caught her boot and held her.

"Let go!" She wobbled, struggling to keep her balance.

"Give back the bag first!"

She grinned. "Alright then!" She slammed it into the side of his body, releasing his hold off of her. The end of her boot met his face and he was sent into a nearby mirror, smashing it into shards.

"Ohh, that's seven years of bad luck, Spider-Man." She leered over him before running off once again.

"I'm getting real tired of this woman," he groaned, pulling himself off the shards.

The ensuing chase led him into the Egyptian exhibit where the woman was continuing to fill her bag.

"I was wondering when you would show up." Her back was to him as she examined a statue of a cat. "Thought you might have called it quits."

"I never quit," he retorted.

She turned around, wearing that same smirk. "You should've."

With a grimace, Peter charged towards her, acting if he was going to attack her head-on. Everything seemed to move in slow motion as he leaped over her at the last second, shooting his web at her hand. While he grabbed a hold of her, he failed to notice her other claw reach out over his chest until it was too late.

"Ow!" Peter hit the floor, clutching his chest in agony. He gazed down and saw blood seeping through the fabric. She had cut straight through his costume and broke the flesh.

"Thank you!" She snatched the bag next to him, removing the webbing with her nails.

"Oh no, you don't!" Peter stumbled forward, trying to grab her. But she easily sidestepped his advances, barely having to move at all. Seeing this wasn't working, he shot out a web but instead of catching onto her, it caught on the fire alarm next to her.

"Wait, no!" He jerked his arm back instinctively. The alarm immediately went off, blaring throughout the museum.

"It was a pleasure meeting you, Spider-Man." She winked from above the Egyptian temple. "But it's time for me to go."

"You're not going anywhere!" Peter shot another web, but once again it missed and caught onto the temple. Letting out a frustrated groan, he ran forward and climbed onto the temple, starting to close in on her. His fingers had just wrapped around her when she suddenly spun around and shoved him back. He screamed as he lost his balance and fell headfirst into the reflecting pool below.

"Looks like spiders don't always land on their feet!" She called out as she dove out the window.

Peter could only cross his arms over his dripping suit, sulking as the police sirens grow closer.

* * *

After clearing things up with the police and ensuring he was not the culprit, Peter swung home in his still-partially wet suit. He couldn't wait until he could take this uncomfortable costume off clinging to his skin and crash into bed.

Today had really been the worst.

Seeing his window coming into view was like a wave of relief for Peter. Soon, this day would be over and done with.

But as he swung to grip onto the wall, the webbing snapped and Peter was sent straight into the glass. For a moment, he thought he saw stars floating around him. Shaking his head, he realized that he had been lucky the glass hadn't cracked upon impact.

Sliding the window open, Peter started to crawl inside when the window came slamming down over his ankle.

"Shi-mmm!" He cried, tumbling onto the floor with a loud crash.

"Peter!" May came rushing through the door. "What happened?!"

"May," he groaned from the floor. "I-I've fallen and I can't get up."

Her mouth quivered into a smile at his joke. "Here, let me help." She wrapped her arm around him and carefully hoisted him to his feet. "Peter, what's that across your chest?"

Peter looked to where she was pointing. The blood had already dried and crusted, but the scratch looked just as fresh as ever.

"That... is what happens when you cross paths with a black cat."


	4. As Luck Would Have It

Rolling over on his side, Peter craned his neck to look at the clock, wiping the sleep crusted above his eyelashes. As the blurred numbers came into clear view, his bloodshot eyes suddenly widened at the time.

It was already 9:30!

"Aw no!" He shot out of bed, not realizing he had gotten himself tangled in the sheets. "Get off!" He yelled at the inanimate bedsheets as they twisted around his legs. After several seconds of kicking and struggling, Peter finally managed to unwrap himself from the blue cotton.

Throwing on a pair of jeans and a shirt that was a size too small, Peter slipped into his shoes, too much of in a hurry to notice they were completely different styles.

"May!" He called out as he zipped up his backpack. "Are you still here?"

When he heard no answer, he peered his head into the hallway and saw that the apartment was empty. May must have been called into work, which explained why she didn't come wake him. But that didn't explain why his alarm didn't.

Snatching his phone off the nightstand, Peter unlocked it to check. To his horror and utter dismay, it turned out he hadn't set his alarm like he previously thought.

With a sigh, he stuck his phone in his front pocket before running out the door towards the station.

* * *

While on the subway, Peter kept glancing at his phone, seeing the time was quickly approaching 10:00. He frowned and clung closer to the metal pole, tapping his foot against the floor loudly. It was then as he glanced down did he notice one foot wearing a sneaker and the other a dress shoe.

Peter immediately looked away, hoping no one else noticed as well. But the people glancing between him and his feet told him otherwise.

He could only offer them a nervous smile in return.

After what seemed to be like hours, the subway finally arrived at his stop. But as it slowed down, it came to a rough halt and jerked Peter forward into an old man seated in front of him.

"Hey! Watch it, kid!" The man shoved him off with his cane.

"I-I'm so, so sorry, sir!" As much as Peter would have liked to stay and see if the man was okay, the doors were already beginning to close. Turning his body to the side, Peter was barely able to squeeze through the doors and hop onto the platform.

Running like he had never run before, Peter darted through the swarms of commuters, having to push through some of them.

"I'm sorry!" He cried as he continued towards the exit.

Even once he was on the sidewalk, Peter did not stop to catch his breath. He just kept sprinting like he was an Olympic runner, and maybe if someone had been timing him, he could have qualified.

When he in came within view of the campus, Peter came to an abrupt halt at the realization that he wouldn't be in the same classroom as yesterday. Heck, he might not even be in the same building.

Whipping out his phone again, he scrolled his gallery frantically for his schedule. "Warren Weaver Hall," he read. "Okay, I think I know where that's at."

Ready to take off, Peter spun around on his heel, immediately colliding into Felicia and falling over her. They both fell to the grass with a groan.

"Well, good morning to you too." Her eyes gleamed into his. Their noses were practically touching.

Seeing the awkward position he was in, he quickly recoiled back from her. "I'm sorry! I totally didn't mean to do that! Are- Are you okay?"

She laughed, taking the hand he had extended to her. "Yeah! I'm fine, Peter!"

Peter ran his hand over his face. "This is so embarrassing."

Felicia brushed the front of her black dress off. "Peter, it's fine. Really. Why were you in such a rush anyway? Late for class?" She grinned.

"Yeah, actually. Um, do you know where the Warren Weaver Hall is?"

"It's that way." She pointed with her red fingernail. "It's that building with the windows sticking out."

He looked behind him, seeing it was in the opposite direction he had been headed in. "Oh." He also saw that it was one of the furthest buildings on campus. "Well, thank you, Felicia!" He waved to her before taking off. "See you tomorrow!"

By the time Peter reached the classroom, he was out of breath and very sweaty. Glancing down at the front of his shirt, he nearly groaned upon realizing he had put his shirt on backward.

_Whatever._

He flung the door open, and the entire class, including the professor, turned to look at him.

"Sorry," he whispered as he started making his way towards an empty seat, which just so happened to be in the front row. "Please, resume your lecture."

"Anyway," the professor continued. "The theories you should be able to understand after this semester include the function theory..."

Peter could feel the professor's stern eyes on him as he took his seat. Trying to be as quiet as possible, he unzipped his backpack and rummaged through it for his notebook and pen. He glanced up, seeing the professor was still looking at him.

Pulling out the notebook, Peter placed it on the tiny desk before going back for his pen. But when he tried to pull his hand back, he found that his hand would not let go of the notebook. He grimaced, trying to shake it off his fingers without bringing attention to himself. Using his other hand, he wrapped it around his wrist and tried to yank it free.

The girl seated next to him shifted her eyes to the side. Peter gave her a tight smile, still trying to shake the notebook off.

"Are you having convulsions?" She asked.

"Mmm-mmm." He shook his head, growing more frantic by the second.

With one last tug, he pried his hand off the notebook, sending it flying into the air behind him. Peter could only shut his eyes as he heard it smack someone, wanting so badly to sink into his chair.

He leaned into the girl beside him. "Hey, um, can I borrow some paper?"

* * *

"MJ!" Peter rushed towards her with his food in hand. "Hey, I-"

His dress shoe caught on the grass and he tumbled to the ground, spilling his drink all over himself.

"Peter?" MJ stood up from the picnic table. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah, yeah. Don't get up. I'm fine." He rose back to his feet, clutching his paper bag.

MJ's eyes trailed over his shirt and down to his feet. "Why do you look like a three-year-old who tried to dress himself?"

Peter let out a nervous chuckle. "It's been a rough day, to say the least."

She took a bite out of her sandwich. "Why? What's going on?"

"Well." He scratched the back of his neck. "I've been having a lot of embarrassing things happen to me."

MJ shrugged. "Oh, well that's not unusual. That's just kinda a 'you' thing."

"Yeah, I know. But this is way more than usual!" He unwrapped his own sandwich. "It's like some sort of bad luck!" Peter's eyes widened at the phrase. "That's it! I'm having bad luck because of that mirror I broke!"

MJ scoffed, taking another bite. "That's just superstitious nonsense."

"Yeah, but what else could it be? The cat burglar told me I'd have seven years of bad luck-"

"Cat burglar?" She interrupted. "What cat burglar?"

"Well, I don't know her made-up name, but I found her at the Met yesterday doing- well doing what cat burglars do," he explained. "She even gave me this!" Peter pulled his collar down, exposing the three-clawed scratch.

"She did that?!" MJ's jaw dropped. "Peter, that looks bad."

"I know," he sighed. "And it looks just as red as yesterday."

"I think you should go find her."

"I wouldn't even know where to begin." He bit into his sandwich. "I have no idea who she is even with the type of hair she has. Do you know how many girls have that same platinum blonde hair?" He gestured to the students around him.

"Huh." MJ glanced around. "I never noticed that before."

"I blame that medieval dragon show." Peter shook his head as he chewed.

"But that's not what I meant." She turned back to face him. "She's a burglar, right? So just go to someplace she'd hit and wait for her there."

Peter considered this before breaking into a bright smile. "You know, that's a great idea, MJ!"

MJ gave him a smug grin. "I know."

* * *

When he arrived home, Peter found that his key was not in its usual place. He dug through his pockets, only finding his phone in there. Thinking he might have placed it in his backpack, he shook it off and searched through every zipper.

"Of course," he muttered when he came out empty-handed. With a frown, Peter stormed out of the apartment complex and into the alley behind it. Counting the stories up in his head, his eyes landed on where his window was- or at least- should be.

Glancing around to make sure no one was watching, Peter began to scale the wall. The wind whipped his curls around and the sudden thought of falling crossed his mind. He would have never thought such a dark before, but after today, anything was possible.

In a matter of seconds, he made it to the thirteenth floor. But before he opened the window, he peeked into the room, ensuring it was his. The last thing he needed was to break into a stranger's room.

Careful not to fall like last night, Peter somehow managed to keep his balance and get into his room safely. After shutting the window, he decided to call Ned, wanting to hear his best friend's voice after the terrible day.

With the phone pressed against his ear, Peter waited for Ned to pick up, listening to each ring with anticipation. But after the fifth ring, he knew Ned wasn't going to answer. Biting his lip, Peter hung up the call before it went to voicemail. He knew Ned was probably busy, but that didn't stop his heart from sinking.

Heaving a tired sigh, Peter threw himself over his bed. Not two seconds later, the legs gave way and the bed collapsed from under him.

Trying his best not to scream, he stood up from his slumped mattress and started changing into his costume.


	5. The Cat's In The Cradle

"Now if I were a cat burglar, where would I go?" Peter mused to himself while perched on top of a stone gargoyle. His eyes scanned the busy streets below, watching the cars zoom past in a blur of bright light. The realization hit him as he looked a few blocks ahead towards a stretch of buildings known as the premier place for buying and selling one thing and one thing only.

"A jewelry store, of course!" He slapped his forehead.

Shooting a web onto the skyscraper across the street, Peter started swinging his way towards the infamous Diamond District. As he came closer to the glittering storefronts, that same prickling sensation suddenly returned.

_Could she already be here then? __Or was this something else?_

Peter could only hope he wasn't too late as he swung lower to the ground. After plopping to the pavement, his eyes darted around the numerous jewelry stores surrounding him. Tiffany and Co. Jangmi. I.D. Jewelry. Swarvoski.

_Swarvoski._

As soon as he said the name in his head, the hairs on arms and neck shot upright. This had to be the store. But there was only one way to be sure.

Going up to the window, he squinted inside, narrowing the eye sockets of his mask. It was obvious it was closed. All the lights save for the display windows were off. However, there seemed to be something moving towards the back. Peter leaned in closer, trying to make sure it wasn't just his imagination. No, there was something definitely moving.

Backing away from the window, he glanced up at the impossibly high building. Climbing it would take too much time. And that didn't account for the time wasted trying to find a vent. Deciding against that idea, Peter looked towards the front door and noticed that once again, it was unlocked.

How this woman managed not to trip the alarm escaped him. Either she was that good of a burglar or their security sucked.

"Okay, remember." He clenched his fists, trying to hype himself up. "Be firm and demand that she fix this."

He grabbed the door handle and pulled it open, continuing to repeat what he was going to say. Peter had just stepped inside the dim store when a flirtatious voice rang out from the shadows.

"I was wondering if you were going to come in or not. I thought I might have to invite you." The woman emerged from the darkness with the same nylon bag from before. "But I'm afraid you're a little late." Her green eyes shifted to the bag, which Peter could tell was loaded.

"Look... you!" Peter took an angry step forward. "Ever since I met you, I've had nothing but bad luck!"

She rolled her eyes from behind her mask. "What did you expect? That my scratch was just for show?" Her red lips turned into a sly grin. "Would you have rather preferred a love bite?"

Peter nearly choked on his spit. "What?! No! I-I thought it was because of the mirror! Not the scratch!"

"I'm called the Black Cat for a reason, cutie." She winked, tossing her white hair to the side.

"Really?" Peter scratched his head. "Your name is the Black Cat? How did I not guess that?"

Her eyes gleamed with excitement as she sauntered up to him. "Doesn't it just roll off the tongue?"

"I find it more cliche than anything." He shrugged. "I mean, a cat burglar with the word 'cat' in her name. You couldn't have been more on the nose than if your name was Catwoman." Peter crossed his arms. "Anyways, I'm not requesting you remove this scratch. I'm demanding."

Black Cat's smirk didn't once waver from her face as she said, "No."

Peter's arms dropped to his sides. "No? What do you mean no?!"

"I thought I made myself clear enough." She examined her red nails before shifting her gaze back to his with renewed interest. "Plus, I like to think of it as a reminder of when we first met. Or quite literally, how I left my mark on you." Black Cat snickered from behind her glove.

His eye sockets narrowed once again. But unlike before, this was not out of curiosity. "Alright then. I gave you a chance to do this the easy way." He grabbed hold of her wrist and held her firmly in place. "Fix this!"

"Aww, but I would rather we do it the hard way," she purred, giving him a kick to the stomach. He instantly let go of her, but not before shooting a web at her fleeing form. Just as it was going to catch on the back of her skin-tight suit, Black Cat spun around and caught it with her outstretched hand.

"You gotta be quicker than that, Spider-Man!" She started running back towards him with the web still in hand.

Confused, Peter shot a second web at her, which she easily grabbed ahold of. Running circles around the web-slinger, Black Cat dodged each of the webs he continued to fire at her. It wasn't until Peter felt something suddenly tighten around his body did he realize what she had been doing.

"Wai-No! Black Cat! Agh!" He cried as his body swayed to the side. With a sharp yank, Black Cat pulled him down.

"This wasn't my initial choice of getting tangled up." She looked down at the hero writhing on the floor beneath her. "But I suppose it'll do... for now."

Peter glared at her, struggling against his own webbing. "Can you stop making puns and just uncurse me already?!"

Black Cat dropped to her knees, only a few inches away from his face. "But where would be the fun in that?" She brought her hand over his chest, causing Peter to squirm as she traced the spot where she had scratched him. "Since you so desperately want this gone and I do want to see you again, I'll make a deal with you."

He raised his eyebrow from under his mask. "Which is?"

"You have three days to guess my identity. If you guess correctly, I'll uncurse you. But if you don't." Her voice dropped to a whisper as she brought her lips to the side of his head. "Then you'll have this mark of mine forever."

She rose back up and hoisted the bag over her shoulder. "Oh, and those three days began tonight. Good luck, Spider-Man!"

Before Peter even had the chance to respond, Black Cat punched the alarm on the wall and fled out the door.

When the police arrived minutes later, Peter could only wiggle his fingers in an attempt to wave at them from the floor.

"Hey guys, think you can give me a hand here?"

* * *

A/N: If this ever gets made into a movie, you better believe Get Lucky will be on the soundtrack.


	6. A Web of Bad Luck

Having set five alarms the previous night, Peter had ensured he got up in time the next morning. Without the extra pressure of having to rush, he could take his time getting dressed and actually sit down and eat breakfast. However, just because he caught a break this morning didn't make Peter any less anxious. Now that he knew it was the scratch causing his bad luck, he became even more aware of his surroundings.

"Murphy's law," he said to himself as he boarded the subway. "Anything that can go wrong, will go wrong."

Looking around the crowded cart, Peter's mind began to travel to some dark and morbid places. He could already imagine the subway going off the tracks and crashing. Or perhaps the tunnel would collapse, trapping everyone beneath the rubble until they suffocated. Maybe when he got off and crossed onto the platform, his foot would get caught between the closing doors and he would be dragged under as the subway took off. Just how far his bad luck extended was still unknown.

"Curse you, Final Destination, for putting those thoughts in my head," he muttered under his breath. A subway was not the best place to be in right now, not when a million things could go wrong. So once the doors slid open, Peter practically jumped out of the subway and onto the platform.

On the way to class, Peter's eyes darted around in every direction. He kept glancing over his shoulder, thinking a car might suddenly fly into him. Each tree he passed made him speed up until he was completely out of its shadow. He knew anyone who happened to be watching him must have thought he was being tailed. Or worse, that he was mentally unstable.

Even once he reached the campus, Peter's paranoia did not ease up like he thought it would. It did the exact opposite. Knowing not one bad thing happened on the way over here, a looming suspicion hung over him like a dark cloud. Something was bound to go wrong.

But upon entering the GCASL without a single hitch, Peter couldn't help but heave a sigh of relief. Maybe the worst that would happen would be he'd give the wrong answer in class or his phone would go off in the middle of a lecture.

Holding his breath, he grabbed onto the handrail and climbed the stairs, taking slow, deliberate steps. He hadn't realized how fast his heart was pounding until he crossed the last step. It sounded as if it were about burst right out of his chest.

"Okay, Peter, just calm down." He pressed his hand over his heart and felt its irregular pulse against his chest. Too focused on trying to steady his racing heartbeat, Peter didn't notice he had turned to the left instead of the right. But as he walked down the aisle of the auditorium, scanning each row, he found that he couldn't recognize a single person.

_Who were these people?_

He knew this was only the second class, but he should recognize at least someone. Like Felicia. Where was she?

Turning his head towards the front, Peter's eyes widened in horror as he realized his mistake. For on the board, behind the professor, were several images of Renaissance paintings.

"This isn't U.S. History," he squeaked.

The student closest to him snickered. "No, it isn't. _Freshman_."

Peter winced at the name. It was like a punch to the gut, or maybe even worse. Before anyone else had the chance to call him out, he hurried back up the aisle and out of the auditorium.

When he finally reached his actual class, the students were bent over their desks in silence. The only sounds heard were their pencils scribbling across the paper in front of them. Felicia moved silently through each row of tables, watching as the students filled out their quizzes. But when she caught sight of Peter standing in the doorway, she motioned him over with a wave of her hand.

"You're late." Although her words were blunt, they carried no hint of irritation that Peter might have expected.

"I know. I'm sorry," he whispered back, trying not to cringe.

"Here, they're taking a pop quiz." She handed him the paper in her hand. "You still have a few minutes to complete it."

"Thanks." He smiled at her before taking his seat. After setting his backpack down and pulling out a pen, Peter started to fill out his name when a sudden tune coming from his pocket rang out through the silent auditorium.

"IT'S RAINING MEN! HALLELUJAH! IT'S RAINING MEN! AMEN!"

Everyone turned their heads around to stare at where it was coming from, which just happened to be Peter's pocket.

"I'M GOING TO GO OUT! I'M GOING TO LET MYSELF GET ABSOLUTELY SOAKING WET!"

Yanking out his phone, Peter's fingers trembled as he struggled to turn it off. "Shut up! Shut up!" All the while, the music continued blasting out at full volume and everyone kept staring at the now beet-red boy.

After practically having to slam it down on the desk, Peter finally managed to turn off his phone. Sensing everyone's eyes on him, he glanced up and saw the rest of the class snickering. Even Felicia was trying to hide her laughter from behind her hand.

"D-Don't know how that got on there. That's definitely not something I listen to. But it's all good." His hand shook as he raised it in a thumbs-up. "You can go back to your quiz now."

* * *

Giving a frustrated sigh, Peter skimmed through what his probably his fiftieth article about notorious cat burglars on his now slightly cracked phone.

"I don't want to know more about Walter Hardy," he muttered, rubbing his chest. "I want to know more about the Black Cat."

But no matter where he looked, his search for the elusive cat burglar turned up empty. Other than what he reported to the police, nothing new could be found on her.

Yet, he continued browsing, not realizing that he had been scratching himself for the past five minutes. It wasn't until his nails dug over his shirt and into his skin did he abruptly stop. Pulling down his shirt, Peter craned his neck and saw the scratch still red and raw.

_Was it even healing? _

It sure didn't look like it. But at least, it didn't look infected either.

"Peter Parker!" The English professor called out. "Would you please read the next paragraph?"

Peter snapped his head up. "Um... Of which story, ma'am?" He knew this was a stupid question based on the low chuckles from the rest of the class.

The professor's steely gaze never blinked as it remained fixated on Peter. "Maybe if you were paying attention instead of being on your phone, you would know that we are on The Black Cat."

He bit his lip, not sure if he wanted to laugh or cry at the irony of it all. "Right, sorry." So instead of doing either or both, he flipped his anthology towards the story and started to read.

* * *

"May! I'm home!" Peter closed the door behind him. No sooner than he did, May appeared with a concerned look on her face.

"Peter. What's going on?"

"What? What are you talking about?" He slid his backpack off and tossed to the side.

"I'm worried about you." She clasped her hands together. "You seem distant. Like you're hiding something. Is something going on at college? Do you not like it?"

Peter shook his head. "No, no. It's fine."

"Then what is it?" She frowned.

Casting his gaze to the side, Peter let out a deep sigh. "Okay, yeah. There is something going on. The other night, when the cat burglar scratched me- It turns out that scratch is more than just a scratch. It's actually... a curse!"

May brought her hand to her mouth. "Oh my gosh. Do you know how to break it?"

"Well, yes but doing so is nearly impossible. I have to guess her identity in like 48 hours! I've been researching all day for something on the Black Cat, but I can't find anything!" He ran his hands through his hair. "I don't know what to do, May. I don't want to have bad luck for the rest of my life. Being Peter Parker is bad luck on its own."

"Hey." May wrapped her arm around his back and pulled him close. "Being Peter Parker is not bad luck at all. How many other teenagers can say they're superheroes? That they've saved countless people? That they've fought actual bad guys?" She smoothed out his hair. "I know right now it seems like being Peter Parker is nothing but bad luck. But I know you'll break this curse. Because being Peter Parker also means you're a genius."

Peter gave a weary shrug but was unable to hide his growing smile. "Then what do you think I should do?"

May tapped her chin in thought. "Have you considered tricking this Black Cat?"


	7. To Rob A Peter

Gazing up at the pallid glow of the fruit hanging in the glass cube, Peter felt his mouth twitch into a smirk at the timing of it all. "You can always count on Apple for their annual fall release." He hummed. Just like he could still count on his 'Peter tingle' to lead him to the Black Cat.

"Ugh, I really have to start calling it something else," he groaned, opening the unlocked door. He didn't have to walk far before he came upon a blue light penetrating through the dark. A figure stood hunched over it, tapping its fingers across the glowing screen. An eerie hue shone over the face, illuminating its unblinking eyes. But Peter didn't need to see its face to know who it was. He recognized that hair as white as snow flowing down her shoulders.

"Let me guess. You're here for the iPhone 16," he said, not giving her the chance to speak first. "Tell me, what's different about this one? Is the screen a little bigger? Do they have like five cameras now?"

She glanced up, her eyes gleaming their usual green. "Hey, Spider. I like the new confidence. It suits you much better than the stuttering."

His eyes narrowed into slits at her. "Then you're really going to like hearing this next part. _I know who you are_."

Black Cat's expression stiffened as she placed the phone down on the table. For once, she remained silent.

"Aw, what's wrong? Cat got your tongue?" Peter noticed the gears turning in her head as he inched towards her. "But before you do say anything, I have a deal of my own to make with you."

She pursed her red lips together. "What is it?"

"You break this curse or I reveal your identity to the Times." He saw her eyes widen a fraction, clearly taken back by his blunt response. "So unless you want your face plastered on tomorrow's front page, you better uncurse me. Oh, and don't think physically stopping me will do anything. I already have someone on standby, ready to hit Send."

"Wow, you really didn't come here to play, Spider," she muttered. "I'm impressed. You actually figured this out sooner than I expected." Her expression softened as she pushed herself away from the table. "Alright, I'll uncurse you. We don't need to start revealing each other's identities to the press. That's a little too drastic."

Peter ignored the urge to roll his eyes. "And cursing people isn't?"

She shrugged, waltzing up to him with a teasing grin. "It isn't my fault if you got too close."

Their bodies were only inches from each other and Peter was beginning to grow uncomfortable under her intense stare. "Well? Why are you just standing there?"

"I can't remove the scratch with your suit on," she giggled.

Peter's face instantly flushed. "O-Oh. Yeah." Realizing she was right, he scrambled to find the best way on how to take the suit off. Usually, he wouldn't have had to think twice about it. He would have simply had to decompress the suit and take off the upper half. But now with this woman standing in front of him, his mind had turned into a jumble of thoughts.

"Um..." Peter's hands slowly moved to the spider-shaped button on his chest. His arms trembled as they hovered in the air, unable to press down.

"You need some help there, Spider?" She placed her hand over his, gliding it over his chest and towards the button.

He shook his head, taking a step back. "N-No. I-I can do it." Yet, he remained frozen in place.

"Here, let me," Black Cat purred, wrapping her arms around his neck and closing the gap between them. The next thing Peter knew she suddenly had her mouth pressed against his.

"Mmm!" Peter cried out, feeling her lips moving passionately against the fabric of his mask. He didn't immediately pull away, too shocked to react or even think. It was like his brain was short circuiting.

Taking his stunned silence as a sign to continue, Black Cat pushed herself against him and deepened the kiss. "Mmmm." She smirked up at him, licking her lips. "You're a better kisser than you are a liar." Her nails moved over his chest, circling where she had marked him. "Although, I still do want to see what's underneath."

His hands shot up and grabbed her wrists. "Not until you uncurse me!" He hissed, finally recovering from his daze.

Her eyes shifted to his hold on her, not appearing the least bit threatened. "Ooh, are we getting rough now?"

"Yeah, we are." Peter tightened his grip on her.

"As much as I'd like to see where this leads, I'm afraid it'll have to wait." Her middle finger and thumb came together in a snap. No sooner had she done so, all the phones around the store turned on.

"What the-"

A loud explosion rang out through the store, startling Peter. He let go of her, turning to see as each device exploded in a puff of fire and smoke.

"Oh no!" Peter rushed to the tables and started webbing the smoldering products.

"I'll be seeing you tomorrow night. Right, Spider?" Black Cat winked, strapping a watch around her wrist. "Maybe then you'll get lucky."

"Oh, you bet!" He shouted, continuing to put out the fires. When she didn't answer, Peter knew she had already left.

And lucky her. Because just as he put out the last fire, the sprinklers came on.


	8. Cat On A Hot Tin Roof

Peter's eyes remained unblinking as he stared at the phone in his hand. There, displayed in small text across the cracked screen, were the words, _'I'm sorry.' _His fingers started typing frantically over the keyboard as he vomited out a desperate apology to the person on the other end.

_Something happened last night and I didn't want it to._

No, that made him sound guiltier than he really was. Shaking his head, Peter deleted the text and began typing out a new sentence.

_Can I see you during lunch? I need to tell you something._

There. That sounded better. It was vague, but still clear enough that what he had to say was important. It would probably keep MJ guessing the entire morning, gnawing at her mind as the minutes ticked on towards noon.

Just as his shame had been gnawing at him since last night.

Peter couldn't understand why he felt this way. It wasn't like he had done anything wrong. Black Cat had kissed him, not the other way around. And it wasn't like he had enjoyed it either, especially not after all the woman had put him through.

Then why? Why did he still feel this guilt weighing on him? He knew he hadn't betrayed MJ or their relationship.

_Relationship. _That was the keyword here. What Peter and MJ had could hardly be considered a relationship. They hadn't talked for days, much less seen each other. It hadn't been like this in high school where they saw each other every day for practically every class.

The truth was MJ didn't even feel like his girlfriend anymore.

Peter couldn't blame her for that though. He knew she was busy with college just like he was. Heck, he had expected it would be like this once they graduated.

But that didn't mean it didn't hurt any less, watching as your girlfriend and best friend grew further and further away.

So while Ned was doing who knows what and MJ was focused on her art, someone else had stepped in to fill the void in Peter's life.

Swallowing a frustrated sigh, he realized he couldn't deny it any longer. It was true. Peter enjoyed the attention Black Cat gave him in spite of everything. It was nice to know someone still cared about him. That someone actively sought him out and wanted to be around him.

"Well... Spider-Man at least," he muttered, glancing back at his phone.  
His thumb hovered over the send button as he contemplated whether he should press it or not. With a deep intake of air, Peter shut his eyes and hit the tiny paper airplane. His finger had just touched the screen when the phone suddenly fell from his hand and onto the subway tracks below.

"Oh, you've got to be kidding me," Peter groaned. Not bothering to check to the side, he hopped off the platform and stomped over the tracks towards his phone. He had just snatched it off the gravel when the hair on his arms stood up.

Peter snapped his head up, his eyes widening at the bright headlights shining through the dark tunnel. "Oh, fu-"

"Oh my God!" Someone screamed from the platform as the horn blared in the distance.

In a flash, Peter started towards the gathering crowd atop the platform, kicking back gravel from under his heels as he ran. The crowd waved to him with their outstretched arms and yelled for him to hurry. He could sense the train quickly approaching. It would be here in a matter of seconds.

Although he knew he could survive a hit head-on, that did not stop Peter from bounding onto the platform and grabbing onto the many extended hands. He had just scrambled up to his feet when the train rushed past him, sending a gush of wind over him. His shirt lifted slightly, and his brown curls blew to the side.

"That was way too close," someone said.

"Are you okay?" Another person asked.

All Peter could do was give a small nod as he smoothed his tousled hair, trying not to think about how the subway had missed him by mere inches.

* * *

After the scare that had happened earlier, the rest of the morning had been suspiciously normal. And thank goodness for that because it gave Peter a chance to prepare for his meeting with MJ. So while his professors droned on, Peter tuned them out, only focusing on what he planned to say and how to say it. It was like solving a math equation. Or at least he treated it as such by the way he wrote down his confession in his journal, scratching out words and filling in new ones until he got it right.

After scanning the paragraph for the hundredth time, Peter nodded his head, finally satisfied. "You got this," he reassured himself under his breath.

But by the time lunch rolled around, the poor boy was sweating buckets. Did he really have to tell her? What was there to tell anyways? It wasn't like he did anything wrong.

"No, Peter. Don't get cold feet now," he told himself as he walked towards their meeting spot, practically dragging his feet. "It'll be much worse if the truth comes out, and you weren't the one to tell her."

Seeing MJ nowhere in sight, Peter gave a sigh of relief and sat down at an empty table. Was it too much to hope she wouldn't show up?

"Hey, what's up?" A familiar voice said from behind.

Peter squealed, nearly grabbing his things and running off in the opposite direction. "Uh, he-hey, MJ."

MJ narrowed her eyes at him. "You good?"

"Ye-Yeah. Of course! Why wouldn't I be?" Peter cracked a nervous smile.

"Okay..." MJ took a seat across from him. "So what did you need to tell me?"

Peter could feel his upper lip twitching violently. "Um..." Too focused on trying to find the right words, he didn't notice his hand move to his chest on its own and start to rub the irritated scratch.

MJ's eyes flickered to his shirt, watching as his fingers dug into the fabric. "Is that scratch still there?"

He nodded his head fervently. "Yeah, looking just as raw as ever. And it turns out, the scratch is what cursed me."

"So how can you break it?"

"I have to guess her identity in..." He glanced at his phone. "Like 24 hours. If not, I'm stuck with bad luck forever." Peter grimaced, remembering her words. "I'm not even close. I'm practically back at square one," he sighed, suddenly catching sight of Felicia walking across the lawn.

MJ followed his gaze, turning around to see the woman with her black sunglasses and designer purse in hand. "Who's that?"

"That's my history TA," he answered, turning his attention back to the girl in front of him.

"Could be her." MJ shrugged.

"What?" Peter shot her an incredulous look. "Nah, no way."

MJ crossed her arms over her chest and leaned back. "Well, who do you think it is?"

"I-I don't know." He averted his eyes to the side, unable to look at MJ as a series of flashbacks came over him. But Peter could not hide so easily from someone like MJ. She could read him like a book.

"You're acting weird." She scrunched her face together, studying him closely. "Or at least, weirder than usual."

All moisture in Peter's mouth had vanished, leaving it dry and sticky. There also seemed to be a bitter taste on his tongue. "There's something else I need to tell you..."

She cocked her eyebrow. "What?"

"The Black Cat... she's into me. Like really into me. But of course, I'm not into her," he said, nearly slurring his words together.

MJ blinked. "Uh, why are you telling me this?"

Now it was Peter's turn to blink. "Uh, I thought you'd want to know?"

"But what's the point? Some thief having a crush on Spider-Man isn't exactly newsworthy."

"Okay, I get that. But would you rather I hide it from you?"

MJ shook her head. "I just don't understand why you need to bring this up. It isn't like anything happened between you two."

Peter scratched the back of his neck, shifting his gaze away. "Well... not exactly."

"Either it did or didn't." MJ frowned. "So what's really going on, Peter?"

"She kissed me!" He practically shouted, drawing the attention of the nearby students.

"That's what they all say!" A girl yelled back from another table.

"Oof, you done screwed up!" A guy snickered from under a tree.

"It's the truth, MJ. And I feel so guilty and ashamed even though I didn't kiss her back." Peter's eyes softened as he watched his girlfriend process everything. At first, her face widened with shock before finally contorting with anger.

"Why would you feel guilty though? You said you did nothing wrong. There shouldn't be any reason to feel any guilt or shame then."

"MJ..." Peter pleaded, reaching his hand out towards her.

She drew her hand back off the table. "Answer my question. Did you enjoy it? Is that why you feel bad?"

"Because- Because!" He couldn't say it. He couldn't say Black Cat was giving him the attention you and Ned had failed to give. The truth would only make this already tense situation worse. So instead, he said something he immediately regretted. "Why are you so upset? You've hardly been acting like my girlfriend anyways."

MJ's jaw dropped, something Peter had never seen happen before. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"No, that came out wrong! MJ, I'm sorry! I didn't mean to say that-"

"But you did." Her eyes had narrowed into slits. "Go ask the Black Cat to be your girlfriend then. She's already acting like it."

With that, MJ grabbed her things and stormed off, leaving Peter there wanting to punch himself.


	9. Don't Get Your Panties In A Twist

Hanging his head down low, Peter could only stare at his scruffy sneakers as he walked home. He knew if he were to plug in his earbuds, a sad song would surely start playing. So he continued his lonely walk in silence with nothing but his thoughts to keep him company.

He had screwed up badly. He hadn't needed Black Cat's curse to say that; that was just the curse of being ol' Peter Parker.

How he was ever going to fix this, he had no idea. In fact, he had no idea how to fix any of this. A part of him had accepted this was going to be his life from now on. He was going to bear this scratch for the rest of his life. Oh well, at least it looked kinda cool.

Heaving a weary sigh, Peter unlocked the front door, not caring when the door handle came loose in his hand. He shut the door and went to his room, slowly beginning to strip off his clothes. Grabbing his suit, he slipped into it half-heartedly. Gone was the usual enthusiasm- the usual confidence gained when he put it on.

After securing his mask, Peter leaped out the window with a body that felt as if it were weighed down by cinderblocks. As he swung out towards Manhattan, he did none of the usual tricks Spider-Man was known for. For once, Peter made being Spider-Man look _boring. _He would simply just shoot a web and fly threw the air, looking as if he were a mannequin that had been flung.

It didn't take long before he grew bored of the wind whipping through his mask and against his skin, something he had never grown tired of before.

What was the point of being out here? What was he even looking for? He was no closer to figuring out Black Cat's identity, and he had no clue where she even was.

"Maybe my Peter tingle has finally given out," he muttered as he came upon the vast foliage that was Central Park. Swinging onto a nearby tree, Peter grabbed onto one of the branches before it unexpectedly snapped. It fell to the grass, bringing Peter down along with it. He hit the ground with a loud groan, nearly having the wind knocked out him. Not bothering to get up, Peter remained on the grass, curling into a fetal position. Hot tears welled in his eyes, stinging them after being held in for so long.

"Aww, rough day, Spider?"

Peter instantly jumped to his feet at the question, grateful she couldn't see his tears. "What do you want?" He spat, trying to stifle the crack in his voice.

"I saw you lying here and thought I could maybe cheer you up," Black Cat purred, slipping her arm around his back.

"You're the reason I'm lying here!" Peter shouted, breaking out of her grasp.

"Me?" She pointed to herself with an innocent smile. "What did I do?"

"Oh, let's see." He began counting off with his fingers. "You cursed me, you kissed me, and have just made my life a living hell since we've met!"

"Don't act like you didn't enjoy that kiss." She smirked as she inched in closer to him. "I've seen the way you look at me. The way you undress me with your eyes."

"First of all, you can't even see my eyes. Because if you could, you would know I'm rolling them right now." Peter scoffed as he folded his arms over his chest.

"And second of all?"

The web-slinger blinked, dropping his arms. "Actually, that's it. I don't have a second of all."

Black Cat giggled as she took a seat on a nearby bench. "You can't deny it hasn't been fun, Spider."

"Yes, I can." He tilted his head, watching as she opened the brown paper bag she had been carrying. "What are you even doing out here? Shouldn't you be robbing a bank or something?"

She shook her head, taking a bite of her sandwich. "Tonight's my night off."

"I didn't think criminals had nights off," he retorted, putting a hand on his hip.

"Ouch." Black Cat feigned a hurt expression. "That was rude, Spider-Man. Is it so wrong for a girl to just kick back and eat her dinner?"

Peter scrunched up his nose at the sight of her 'dinner.' "What kind of sandwich is that?"

"Avocado and tuna." She smiled before taking another bite.

"Gross. But at least, you didn't say mice."

Black Cat set down her sandwich with a frown. "I'll have you know that this is delicious. Want to try some?"

"Um, sure." Of course, he really didn't, but this was his chance to get in close to her. Using this as a distraction, he slowly creeped over to the woman until he was just inches away from her. In a flash of red and blue, his hand shot out and grabbed a fistful of her platinum blonde hair.

"What are you doing?!" She screamed as her head was yanked roughly to the side.

"Trying to see if this is a wig!" He tugged at her hair again before a clawed hand swiped at his face, narrowly missing it. Having to dodge her sudden attack, Peter was forced to let go of her.

"I didn't think you were into that sort of thing." Black Cat ran her nails through her disheveled hair, smoothing it out.

Peter let out an audible gulp as she started to approach him, unable to keep his eyes off the sharp claws that hung at her sides.

"Who would have guessed Spider-Man was some sort of freak." She licked her dark red lips. Before Peter even had the chance to blink, Black Cat rushed at him and started tearing his costume to shreds with her nails.

"There, much better." She took a step back and admired her work.

Peter glanced down, letting out a shriek as he saw his suit in tatters. She had basically left him in his boxers!

"Hmm, not bad." A smirk crossed her face as she looked him up and down. "Shame I couldn't see everything though." Her finger traced his mask, the last remaining piece of his costume left still intact.

Flinching under her touch, Peter nearly lost his balance as he stumbled backward. "What the- How the-" he sputtered, trying in vain to cover himself.

"Only 24 hours left," Black Cat giggled. "You better get used to that bad luck of yours, Spider."

Unable to do anything else, Peter could only watch as the woman hurried up a tree before vanishing into the night.

"Oh, how am I going to explain this to May?" He whined, still trying to salvage his shredded suit. Seeing that it was beyond saving, Peter reluctantly started the long journey back home. As he swung across the city, Peter could only hope no one happened to be looking up.

"Nice underwear!" A man jeered from below.

Peter grimaced, pretending he hadn't heard them. Of course, it would be just his luck that someone would see him practically naked.

"You feel a breeze up there, Spider-Man?" Another woman laughed.

"Mommy, look!" A child pointed at him.

"Damn, who knew Spider-Man was shredded?" A teenager, who sounded an awful lot like Flash Thompson, whipped out his phone and started filming.

Scratch that, make it all of New York.


	10. While The Cat's Away

"If you had any doubts about whether Spider-Man is a menace or not, just take a look at this video sent by one of our subscribers," the balding reporter announced through the phone screen.

Peter could only watch in dismay as he saw himself swinging through Manhattan in his shredded costume- his blue underwear clearly visible to the onlookers and the camera. His worried eyes glanced toward the view count underneath, seeing the numbers steadily climbing into the millions.

"Is this the type of superhero you want your kids to look up to?" The reporter frowned. "One who streaks in public with no sense of shame?"

"How else was I supposed to get home?" Peter rolled his eyes with a hiss, clutching his phone even tighter.

"Don't be surprised if this perverted hero forgoes his boxers the next time around. I'm J. Jonah Jameson and thanks for watching. Be sure to like and subscribe." The man signed off with a smile.

With a heavy sigh, Peter closed the video and pulled up his messages. He didn't need a number count to tell him there were no new messages; he knew his inbox was drier than the Sahara desert. As he opened the messages between him and MJ, he felt his shoulders slump as he read the last conversation they shared. It had been over two weeks ago.

Before he knew it, his fingers were typing up a message. It was desperate; it was pathetic. He knew it was, but he _was_ desperate and pathetic at this point.

"God, I sound so lame." He groaned as he read the message from top to bottom. But before he could hit send, his sneaker caught on the carpet as he walked into the classroom, sending him flying into the nearest desk.

And this desk just so happened to have a hot cup of coffee on top of it.

"Dude! What the hell!" The student shot up from the desk, wiping his hands free of the burning liquid. "You know how much that cost me?"

"S-Sorry," Peter stammered as he raised himself off the desk. He glanced down, seeing the mess he had made all over himself. His white shirt had a giant brown stain running down the front of it. The carpet beneath was quickly growing dark from the liquid that continuously dripped off the desk.

"Um, I'll- I'll go clean this up." He told the irritated student before running out of the class, not stopping until he reached the bathroom. Once inside, Peter grabbed a handful of paper towels and used one to dab the stain on his shirt.

"You look like crap," he muttered at his reflection. Dark circles enclosed his once-vibrant eyes, and he was pretty sure they were permanent now. His eyes were bloodshot- whether that was from crying or a lack of sleep- Peter had no idea. His brown curly hair looked limp and greasy, probably from the shower he skipped this morning.

Deciding to splash some water on himself and his shirt, Peter had just twisted the knob when it broke off along with the rest of the faucet. A jet of freezing cold water shot out, spraying him and making up for the shower he had missed.

Peter didn't come back to class after that.

* * *

"Hey," a soft voice said to the side of him. "Mind if I sit here?"

Peter raised his head from his arms, looking up to see Felicia standing there with a brown paper bag in her hand.

"Go ahead, but beware that I might spontaneously combust." He laid his head back down.

Felicia giggled as she took a seat. "Why didn't you come back to class? It's not like you're the first person to have tripped and spill someone's overpriced coffee."

"After the week I've had, I needed to get away," Peter mumbled, finally lifting his head. He watched as she pulled a wrapped sandwich out of the bag and tear it open with her red nails.

He must have been staring because she suddenly met his eye and said, "Oh, where are my manners. Do you want to try it?"

"What kind of sandwich is it?" Peter tilted his head, trying to get a good look at its contents.

"Avocado and tuna. Yes, I know it sounds gross, but it is really good!" Felicia started to break off a small piece.

"No, thanks." Peter waved his hand as she held it out to him. "I'm good."

"Alright then. You're the one missing out." Felicia shrugged before popping the piece into her mouth.

Peter let out a chuckle. "I don't think I'm missing out on avocado and tuna-" He abruptly stopped once the words left his lips, remembering where and when he had just seen that sandwich.

_Could it be?_

His eyes darted to her wrist, noticing the Apple watch decorating it. It was the same sleek, black watch Black Cat had taken that night.

As realization began to dawn on him, Peter shifted his eyes to the side and saw the designer handbag placed on the table. Beside the purse were a pair of designer sunglasses, ones Peter knew must have cost a fortune.

Unless they hadn't cost anything at all.

Peter did not know the salary of a TA, but he knew it was way below the paygrade to afford such luxurious things.

Clicking his tongue, Peter realized the clues had been in front of him all along.

_MJ had been right all along._

"Peter?" Felicia lowered her sandwich. "Is something wrong?"

He shook his head, having to bite his lip to keep from grinning. "Quite the opposite actually. Everything's great!"

"Oh, it's just for a second, you looked upset." A worried frown crossed her face. How this woman could be the mischievous Black Cat was beyond him. It was like night and day between the two.

But then again, the same could be said about himself and Spider-Man.

"Nah, I have never been better!" He rose up from the table, unable to keep his smile hidden anymore. "I'll see you later!" Peter waved to her before rushing off across the lawn.

With a newfound skip in his step, the gears in Peter's mind started turning with anticipation.

For once, he was actually looking forward to a meeting with the Black Cat.


	11. The Spider Will Play

Using the friction from her fingers, the cat burglar slowly lifted the unlatched window and stepped inside the high-rise apartment. Not waiting for her eyes to adjust to the inky darkness, she removed the black duffle bag strapped to her back and dropped to her knees, starting to go through tonight's loot.

"Ooo, now these are super cute!" She grinned, holding up a pair of black lace-up stilettos. "And they will go so well with this dress."

"Not sure they'll let you wear that in prison." A voice spoke out from the corner. "It might clash with the orange."

Black Cat snapped her head to the side, her green eyes lighting up with glee. "Oh, I like the new suit. Red and black suit you much better." She rose up off her knees and sauntered over to the plush black divan against the wall. "I was wondering where you were earlier," she purred, lying down over the sofa in a seductive pose. "I hope I didn't keep you waiting too long."

Peter moved out of the dark corner- his arms crossed over his chest, and his eyes narrowed into white slits. "Not at all. I kept myself entertained. You've got a pretty nice place here."

She laughed from behind her white fur-covered glove. "By snooping around through my drawers? I would have never thought you were so naughty, Spider." Black Cat crossed her legs as she leaned her head against the palm of her hand. "But I'm sure there was plenty in there to keep you entertained."

"Actually, what I found more interesting was the price for a place like this." He gazed around the room, studying each piece of furniture closely. "It's roomy. It's in the middle of Manhattan. Must be costing Dahlia Cryfie a fortune."

The smile on Black Cat's face grew wider. "Dahlia Cryfie?"

"Yes, that's who the apartment's leased under." Peter kept his arms pressed against his chest as he turned to her. Even though he knew he had nothing to worry about, he could still feel his heart pounding in wild, rapid bursts.

This seemingly caught Black Cat's full attention as she shifted her position and leaned over the divan. A wicked glint twinkled in her eyes. "Is that your final answer?"

Peter gave a dramatic shrug. "What else could it be? Except for an anagram that spells out Felicia Hardy." His eyes suddenly glared into her widened ones.

Black Cat's lips parted in a soundless gasp. "What? I do not know who you are talking about!" She exclaimed in the worst British accent Peter had ever heard.

"Oh, c'mon, Felicia." He shook his head at her attempts to throw him off. "I know that's your name."

"Felicia?" Her accent morphed into an even cringier Russian one. "Who is this Felicia? I-I am not Felici- Okay, yeah. I am," she admitted as her voice reverted back to normal. "But there's no way you could have known! How did you figure it out?!" She pouted, stamping her heel against the wooden floor.

"I don't know. Maybe I just got lucky for once." He winked.

With a low growl, she swung her legs off the divan and sprung to her feet. "Tell me how you knew!" Felicia shrieked, charging forward with both claws raised towards Peter's face. But the web-slinger was ready for her. As her hand swiped for his mask, Peter ducked his head, catching her arm and flipping her over his back. Before she had a chance to regain her footing, he tightened his grip on her wrist, twisting it behind her back as he pushed her against the wall.

"A deal's a deal. I solved your little puzzle, so fix this!" He hissed into her ear.

"You forget, Spider." She wrapped her heel behind Peter's leg. "Luck is still on my side."

Feeling gravity start to pull him backward, Peter was forced to let go of Felicia as he struggled for balance. But before he could fall completely, she caught him in her arms.

"Oh, how I've waited for this moment." She leaned over him, wiggling her fingers eagerly. "You don't know how many times I've dreamt of what's under this mask. But tonight, it can finally become a reality."

"Guess you'll have to keep dreaming then!" Peter's hand instantly shot up, gripping her wrist as she started tugging the edge of his mask.

"Aww, come on, Spider. You know my identity." The arm holding him up suddenly let go, and Peter fell to the ground with a thud. "It's only fair I know yours."

Scooting backward, Peter tried pushing her back with his foot as she crawled across the floor towards him. "Uh, that wasn't part of the deal!"

"Well, then guess someone's going to be stuck with bad luck," Felicia sang out, grabbing his legs.

"Ow!" Peter cried out as he was yanked back- the sudden friction burning his skin. He attempted to squirm out from under her, desperately trying to get away from her leering stare. But before he could even move an inch, she brought her hand down over the sensitive spot on his chest, right where the scratch was. His partially exposed mouth t a sharp yelp as he felt her nails dig into his flesh.

Everything seemed to play in slow motion. Peter's arm reaching out towards Felicia's as she grabbed ahold of his mask. Her body flying backward as he pulled up his legs and kicked her. The scream escaping his lips as he heard the fabric rustle and stretch. A fresh wave of air hitting his face as his mask was ripped off.

It was over in just seconds. But to Peter, these were the longest five seconds he had ever experienced.

In just seconds, his entire world had changed. His cover had been blown; his identity revealed. And perhaps to the last person he'd ever want it revealed to.

Meanwhile, still clutching the mask in hand, Felicia trembled as she stared at the boy in front of her. Her green eyes were nearly bulging out of their sockets and her skin had paled to the same shade as her hair.

"YOU?!"

Her tone was one of absolute disgust that Peter couldn't help but take offense to this. "What do you mean 'you'?!"

"Oh- Oh, God." She stumbled to the side, steadying herself against the wall. "I think I'm going to be sick."

"Hold up." He held his hand out. "I know I may not be the best looking guy around, or what you were probably expecting, but this reaction is really uncalled for."

"No, I was expecting Spider-_Man_!" She emphasized. "Not Spider-Boy, that's for sure!" Felicia threw the mask across Peter's face. It hit his cheek with a loud, painful smack.

"Ah!" He quickly snatched it up and fitted it over his head. "I'm not a kid though! I told you I was eighteen!"

This didn't seem to ease her revulsion as a deep groan instantly erupted from her lips. "Oh, God. That just means you're barely legal... Ugh! Just saying it makes me feel like a creep!"

"Oh," Peter whispered as the realization suddenly dawned on him. "But you shouldn't feel too weird. You're not that much older than me." Her averted gaze told him otherwise. "Right?!"

Biting her bottom lip, Felicia scratched the back of her head. "Ummm..."

Now it was Peter's turn to freak out. "How old are you then?!"

"I... I am twen-" She cleared her throat. "I am a decade older than you."

Peter shot her an incredulous look, unable to believe this woman was nearly in her thirties. "Oh wow. I thought you were like twenty-three max!"

Felicia blinked, tossing her hair behind her shoulder. "Hmm. Maybe I should give you another chance..." she muttered to herself before shaking her head vehemently.

"Of all the things you've done- of all the crimes you committed- this is where you draw the line?" Peter nearly rolled his eyes to the back of his skull.

"I'm called the Black Cat, not the Black Cougar." Felicia pointed out, quirking an eyebrow.

"Anyways," he continued. "Can we just skip to the part where you uncurse me?"

"Ugh, fine." She marched up to him with her fists clenched. "You know, a part of me wants to leave you with bad luck after how you catfished me!"

"How is this my fault? You're the one who assumed my age!" He stood his ground and pointed his index finger right between her eyes.

"And as the saying goes, I've never felt more of like an ass right now." Felicia licked the tips of her nails before bringing them down across his chest. Peter immediately tensed up at the contact of her fingers against his suit, something that did not go unnoticed by the cat burglar. "Oh, relax."

"Well, can you blame me?" Peter decompressed his costume before tugging the collar down.

Felicia's shoulders slumped down as her gaze fell upon his toned chest. "Damn."

Watching closely, Peter shifted his eyes repeatedly between the blonde and her painted red nails. Knowing how she was, he wouldn't put it past her to try something at the last minute. But when he felt her sharp claws glide over his tender skin, it was like instant relief. He looked down, seeing the scratch was no longer red and raw, but pink around the edges and encrusted in four dark scabs.

_It was healing._

"Finally." He gave a sigh of relief as his fingers brushed over the rough layer of skin. "So..." Peter glanced up, shooting the woman a thumbs-up. "We good?"

"Get the hell out of my apartment." Felicia glared at him from her divan. Her face was still ashen and her arms were crossed over her chest like a child put in time out. Whatever air of confidence she had was gone- deflated just like her ego. She honestly looked so pathetic that Peter almost felt sorry for her. _Almost._

"You don't need to tell me twice." He flicked his wrist out towards the duffle bag, catching it with his web. "Bye, Felicia." Peter waved to her before leaping out the window.

Felicia could only groan in response as she clutched her head in her hands, not even bothering to chase after him.


	12. Along Came A Spider

With a bouquet of black tulips in one hand and a box of dark chocolates in the other, Peter Parker strode up the steps to the apartment with a mixture of anticipation and trepidation. After pressing the doorbell, he stood back and waited anxiously for the door to open. But with each second that passed, he found himself growing more and more restless. He had to keep reminding himself to stop glancing around and tapping his foot, having caught himself doing it several times.

"Peter?" The door swung open so suddenly it startled the poor boy. "What are you doing here?"

"MJ," he said breathlessly. "I wasn't sure you would answer... Oh, I brought you these!" Peter reached his arms out and handed her the gifts, which she reluctantly took.

"Tulips." MJ examined the flowers, pinching the petal with her thumb and forefinger. "One of my favorite flowers because-"

"They of their nickname, 'Queen of the Night,'" he finished with a smile. "I would've gotten some black dahlias, but they're surprisingly hard to come by in New York."

The suspicious frown on her face slowly lifted into a grin as she gave a low chuckle. Holding up the box of chocolates, MJ looked at the label closely. "Are these-"

"Dark chocolate? It's the only chocolate you eat-"

"Because it lowers the risk of heart disease and improves brain function," they said in unison.

"You remembered." MJ's eyes softened before she quickly blinked the tenderness away. "Well, don't think you can just show up with these gifts and expect me to come running into your arms."

"I know." Peter nodded. "What I said was really messed up."

"Yeah, no shit."

Peter gave a deep sigh. "I was a huge jerk. And I'm sorry for everything I said. The truth is, I haven't really been acting like your boyfriend either. And it wasn't fair to you that I only blamed you for that, which I guess also makes me a hypocrite. But I want to change that, starting now. I want to be there for you. I want to spend time with you and hang out like we did in high school. I get college has changed some things- well, a lot of things- but it hasn't changed how I feel about you, MJ."

MJ crossed her arms over her chest, averting her gaze to the side. "Yeah, well, these past two days I've been doing some soul-searching, and I realized you were right. As much as I hate to admit it." Her upright shoulders fell as she sighed. "I haven't been acting like your girlfriend. I've just been so busy with class and finding a job and all this homework, and it's just been so stressful. In high school, it was never this way. High school was _easy_. But now." She kept her gaze lowered. "I'm struggling. And I hate it."

Before Peter's brain could process what he was doing, his body had lurched forward and enveloped MJ in a hug. "I know exactly how you feel. College has been hell!"

MJ nodded into the crook of his neck, wrapping her arms around him. "It doesn't help that I haven't made any friends either. It feels like I'm back to being the loner I was in high school."

"Hey." Peter touched her chin and tilted her back to look at him. "You're not a loner. You have me. And if I'm not enough for you," he laughed. "I was thinking we should join some clubs."

MJ narrowed her eyes with skepticism. "Like which ones?"

"Hmm, maybe the Comic Book League?" He grinned. "With your art skills, I bet you could create something totally amazing!"

"That's something more for a nerd like you." MJ backed away with a smile. "I was thinking something more like The Plague."

He blinked, having to make sure he heard her correctly. "The Plague?"

She shrugged. "Yeah, it's a comedy/satirical magazine."

"Okay then." Peter decided not to question it any further. "Oh, I almost forgot! It turns out the Black Cat was my TA, so I guess that's another thing you were right about." He pulled his collar down, revealing the faintest trace of what had been a scratch.

"It's almost like it was never there." MJ glanced back up at Peter. "Of course, I was right about that. It was too obvious."

"Looking back, yeah," he admitted with a sigh. "But the important thing is that she is no longer into Spider-Man."

MJ quirked her eyebrow. "Oh?"

"Yup, once she realized he was Peter Parker- don't worry, she won't tell," Peter assured when he saw her mouth open to say something. "She knows I'll reveal her identity too if she tries anything. Plus, I think she's more concerned I didn't turn out to be the Steve Rodgers type she imagined than she is about seeking revenge."

"So we don't have to worry about her anymore?" She folded her arms again.

Peter shook his head. "You don't have to worry, but I still do. My Spidey-sense is telling me she might strike tonight."

"Spidey-sense?"

"I got tired of calling it the 'Peter tingle.'" He shrugged. "Figured Spidey-sense sounded a lot cooler, don't you think?"

"Yeah, it does." MJ nodded before giving him a peck on the cheek. "Well, go show that cat what happens when you get tangled up in a spider's web."

Peter's mouth slowly upturned into a bright grin before he rushed out the door, already pulling out his mask from his coat pocket.

* * *

Slinking around the rows of art displays, Felicia stopped to study one picture hanging on the wall beside her.

"This would look great above my bed." Her eyes raked over the sensual woman coated in red and black paint. Snatching the frame off the wall, she had just started to creep over towards the skylight when a figure appeared in front of her, blocking her path.

"I doubt your cellmate will approve of that ostentatious piece.'" Peter stepped underneath the skylight- his red and black suit gleaming in the pale moonlight that shone from above.

Felicia's face twitched into a deep scowl. "I don't have time for you right now, Spider."

"Aw, you used to." He started to approach her with swift, confident steps. "But that's okay, I have plenty of time for you."

Without taking her eyes off him, Felicia leaned the painting against a nearby display case and raised her claws in the air, ready to attack. "Don't think I can't curse you again."

Peter's mouth tugged up into a smirk. "Good luck." Leaping into the air over her, he grabbed her outstretched arm and pulled it behind the small of her back.

"I think I heard a bone pop," he said as he dodged her wild, desperate swipes. "Should that be happening at your age?"

"Screw you!" She growled, taking another swipe at him. Her nails had missed Peter's face by an inch and if he hadn't ducked, she would have cut his cheek.

"Whoa!" He caught ahold of her other arm and gripped them together tightly. "I thought you weren't into that sort of thing anymore."

She grunted as Peter pressed her against the wall roughly. "After a long night of thinking- and drinking- I decided that in a few years I could give you another shot." Felicia strained her neck to the side, catching a glimpse of him with her peripheral vision. "I'm sure by then you'll fill out nicely."

"What? When we're like seventy?" He backed away from her. "But hey, maybe by the time you get out of prison, I'll be old enough for you. You know, like in twenty-five years."

"What?" Felicia narrowed her eyes, about to turn around when she was suddenly held back in place. "What the- What did you to me?!" She glanced up at her hands, seeing a thick coat of webbing holding them against the wall.

Watching as she continued to struggle against the web wrapped around her hands and wrists, Peter inched his way to the fire alarm on the wall. "It was a pleasure meeting you, Black Cat." Her green eyes grew wide as he repeated her words. "But it's time for me to go," he said before punching the alarm.

Not bothering to stick around, Peter swung away into the night, listening to the blaring cries of sirens coming from below. With every leap and flip he did in the air, his amused grin only grew wider as he recalled Felicia's gaping stare. The look on her face once she realized she had been outsmarted was priceless, and he only wished he could've seen when she was placed into handcuffs.

Call it pure chance or maybe even beginner's luck, but tonight, Peter Parker couldn't help but feel like the luckiest man alive.


End file.
